Hockey Night
by ItachiSLucius
Summary: Non-binary Natsu: a famed model, successful for their ability in high-profile photoshoots, is given a strange assignment from an old client. Contained in a purple folder, contents spilling over the floorboards of his mind as life simply occurs. His boyfriend, a successful hockeyplayer,, is oblivious, mind set instead on the progression on their small family. (Laxus X Natsu)


Warning: **Natsu is Non-binary in this, so he uses Gender Neutral pronouns.**

* * *

Neck stretched sideways, flare the eyes upwards, and tilt the chin. I contemplate placing my hand on my hip for the fourth time in as many seconds; and decide to make the change only because of the deep red creating a cascade effect down my legs, fabric loose and close to me as a thin skin, a cold chill in the air of Toronto has me shivering for a moment, I pray thankful for the railing. For the uncounted time I whisper a curse to my agent for signing that contract with _Les Marque_ this is supposed to be a rather run-of-the-mill assignment, lesser then the contracts I've held in the past -or so she had told me, and the strain deemed to be minimal.

Minimal my ass! A secluded area with a brick wall and the occasional passing thug is a minimal stress! Her idea of stress is a terrifying prospect: Considering I currently stand around five-hundred meters above ground with light snow breezing around, and a temperature of at least negative fifteen, not to mention wearing high stiletto heels that put me uncomfortably tall, nearly handing over the safety rail of the CN tower.

The next time I see Erza I'm going to kill her!

The sad factor of all this, is that I could have gone another direction entirely. My career would have probably been cozy, and filled with paperwork from a thousand lawyers -as if it isn't now- but I could have gone into another branch of the entertainment business entirely. Acting could have been a choice of thrillers and early morning coffee, secretive car rides followed by no less then five photographers at a time, while memorizing a script of dramatic romance.

Luck had struck me once in my life, complaining about my job now would only diminish the gifts I have now. I could be somewhere else entirely, a grim death from a slip up in an alley, or a swatter on the streets playing shitty guitar in return for my next meal. Eating soup out of a cold can with ratted gloves shaking -just trying not to get any food on myself. Everywhere i look there's a moment I think of how I could have been, and I long to ignore it instead of bringing it to the forefront of my clustered thoughts like an eighteen wheeler semi blazing towards me as I stare at a crack in a brick wall.

My teeth click, once, twice, three times, and I begin to glare at the staff around me. Its been two hours and they still hold me hostage, I know I've been doing my job correctly, certainly as I'm not the one petting a bear gut and casting my eyes to my boss with glassy vision every five minutes.

Being a model is a strange business where cockiness actually gets you rather far, at least, if it holds merit and your client/boss agrees. A life of glitz and glamour certainly, freedom of movement and self control, no. My schedule is held by my manager and it doesn't move from her desk for one reason no matter my pleas. It's not even ungracious egotism that causes my frustrations now. It is the situation of cold, height, and breeze inviting fabric.

"Do you think you got the shot yet? It's almost six, and the temperature is only dropping guys." They're lucky I reigned in my attitude over the last few years, I was known as a violent model who often caused a hectic mess in my wake no matter who good the pictures I left them with were, it plagued my agent with several complaints over my anger issues and had me pegged with a nasty -but strangely badass- nickname in the modeling industry.

"I think we have it, well done Natsumi." I almost roll my eyes at his roaming gaze, flicking around my legs, it was hardly my choice of dress, sex appeal or not, I do not actually enjoy gaping jaws and licentious lust directed to my body. With rare exception, a man holding the age of fifty years with a greyed beard, thinning hairline and bear gut do not meet my standards; no matter how shallow that may sound.

"Oi! Eyes up top!" I say, already making my way inside and ignoring the slight sting that the warm air of the opened door brings to my ears. I hear the laugh he lets loose behind me as he undoubtedly scratches at his beard. Despite his rather perverted thoughts occasionally he is a rather good man, something that took many months of collaboration to accept that particular quirk.

"Jeez did they try to freeze your ears off. They could have put some earphones on or something." Says my Personal assistant as soon as I enter the interior. I take the heels off first, they're useless in this type of cold and will only give me blisters on my heel, something I cannot have with my career. The carpet is almost a grace onto my cold feet.

"Now, now, that would have made hair & makeup job rather difficult, don't you think?" Says Mr. Neil Sungai, the observer for this project, and the very some main with a horrible hairline. All frustration I might have felt outside leaves me with warmth around my skin, and the feeling returning to my ears. I move to my left as everyone begins to bring in all the heavy equipment. Normally I'd help out, but they are moving faster than usual due to the temperature and sensitive technology. At least they all got to wear coats and long-johns. While I get to take a photoshoot with a showy side split dress combined with my short hair not covering my ears. It wouldn't have been so bad if I had just had a simple raincoat on but that would have ruined the aesthetic.

I feel a fuzz lay over my still warming skin, causing an automatic shiver. I look to my PA, she is already pouting at her phone, presumably at one of her strange rage games -that I cannot stand; due to my own anger problems- or texting an irritating individual. Who knows with her, still at least she had got me my coat, my favourite warm ass one. Down to my hips and coloured dark brown and black, all in convincing fake fur. I smile at her, and mouth a 'thanks' as her blue cased android goes next to her ear. I get a small one in return before she walks a little away in order to avoid my voice coming over the speakers. She's done that for years, apparently I'm loud.

While she's busy, I take the opportunity to fish around in my pocket for my packet and light. I peek over at her, and in seeing her foot tapping on the carpeted floor, I have an all clear. I light the cig already in my mouth and breathe in a little greadily. Officially I am banned from smoking, there's just something about the burn of smoke that has me more than a little addicted. It has the added benefit of warming me further, if only a margin.

"Natsumi!" I almost drop it from my index and thumb as I get reprimanded, luckily its happened enough for me to be used to it. "What have I said about smoking!?" Her boobs bounce as she makes abrupt gestures with her arms flailing. It wouldn't have attracted my attention normally, but seen as she has made a point to wear her low cut zebra patterned shirt -the one with black lace trim- its hard to not take a glimpse. Especially when her bra straps are visible. Granted her pink blazer usually covers them.

"Jeez, Its one little cigarette Lucy don't worry!" I ignore the sting on my tongue to tell her to button her damn jacket already, I try not to judge on other people's fashion sense, lord knows I have a strange one. But Lucy always makes a point to have something short or showing on her form, and frankly its a little distracting, and not in a positive way. She huffs something great, keeping her eyes trained onto my cig as if it will flee before her. My hands twitch at the urge to clap at the display, for as amusing as it may be, we both know her glare has no power behind it. My phone buzzes in my pocket, which draws her attention momentarily dropping her eyes and relaxing her posture with reluctance. She says nothing else as she moves for the elevator, I follow, laughing as I blow away smoke. Fishing around in my pocket for the damn phone caught on the lining.

Typing the passcode: 61TML, something that had taken a stupid amount of time to choose. It so happened to be my boyfriend's number. Speak of the devil, and so shall he send a text.

 **From: Thunderer**

 **Did you have a shoot scheduled today?**

 **-Seen - 6:30PM -**

 **To: Thunderer**

 **Just finished! We were the CN Tr, the top walkway! It was cold! Brrr.**

 **-Sent - 6:33PM -**

Knowing him it will take awhile for a response, he's the type of man who doesn't text long conversations, no matter how engaged into the discussion he is. Honestly it makes me so irate sometimes, only because I'm the opposite though. We enter the main lobby, and get a few astray stares before everyone adverts themselves onto their tasks or gives us a polite smile. If Lucy weren't to busy being angry at my stubbornness, I would have asked what is on the roster next, but she'd probably just tell me -yell- for me to start memorizing my schedule for the day the night before. I don't think she understands that I have other things to do at the end of the day not involving work. My phone buzzes again as we enter the car, I don't drive it's better that way. I like to look around at the scenery to much.

Mostly its plain buildings of grey concrete, nothing like the mountain aesthetic I grew up with, deformed and uneven stone, and tall pillars of yellow polished wooden beams, high ceilings and metal clamps made to look vintage. Looking forward there is little foliage, instead the blinking rear lights of traffic and skyscrapers on the horizon, opposing the sloping hills or rocky cliffs. Hell, I'd take the sight of the sparse Trans Canada Highway running so close to my hometown.

Expensive as it had been, at least the people there were kind, well-mannered folk, well most of them smoked weed on a near daily basis. I wouldn't have left if my Dad hasn't disappeared, still Calgary hadn't been a bad place to end up, even if it was a city. I wouldn't have met Laxus if I had stayed in a place where a packet of tea costed almost eight dollars. Of course my own age had been questionable, the move was only due to necessity after Dad disappeared, and the city was less of a trial on a sixteen year old with no job and a rushed GED.

I had just came out from the store, carrying three grocery bags to the train station. From my position in life at the time, my muscle mass was minimal, and i was struggling along a little with the milk bag. As it so happened, in order to avoid traffic I had been traveling on the side of the parking lot near to the cars, when I had to adjust my grasp. The bag swung from the violent winter wind, because I was sparingly dressed at minus thirty with windchill, I let go. The milk hit against a large pickup truck, invoking my heart to jump to my throat, my milk spilled and instintly froze a dent in the metal of the truck. It would be disingenuous to say I was horrified would be an insane understatement. Even more so when the driver emerged and happened to be a huge gaston like figure, 6'3, with a large scar and a scowl speaking words.

That had been three years ago now.

Presently I live in Toronto, a place I had never seen myself from a child's eye. Having hated the thought of Southern Ontario. Yet, i had made the move with Laxus, when he had said he wanted to pursue a contract with the Leafs. Being who I was -a die hard Leafs fan- I had agreed avidly. We currently lived in a large apartment with running water, and electricity where I can watch all the hockey games I like from a huge flat-screen, in my too small leafs hoodie my father had gotten me. Cracking open a beer and yelling loud enough for downstairs to hear me.

On that thought, Lucy drives up to my complex and shuts the engine with a simple click. I blink over at her, it was only seven usually there is far more to be done during the day.

"Rest of the day off." She winks a brown eye, even though I can only see one of them. Well, I wasn't going to cry over a freed schedule. I smile at her, and blow a stupid kiss in her direction which she flutters away. I open the car door, pants sagging -I changed while she was driving, it wasn't as if she hadn't been accustomed to seeing me naked at this point. Camo pants and a loose long sleeve blue shirt, I grapple with my bag and sling my coat over the baggage just as I do after every photoshoot. I watch the Audi drive away stoically, the tires looking a little worn, I'll have to remind her to get some all weather tires later. I cross over the medium, gravel hurting the soles of my feet -because the stilettos were all I had, walking up to the parkaid. A loud ass motorcycle turns into the area, with a crunch of lose stone as it slows.

My head turns automatically at the sound.

"Hey! We got back at the same time!" I yell, he settles next to me, leg resting on the road.

"Shoes." I walk away as he goes to park, not answering his non-question with feigned ignorance.

Unwelcoming as it may be, the parking lot -for residents- is at least protected from the cold. I spring my feet a little at the welcome sensation of tarmac as opposed to old concrete. I grapple with the elevator button as my asshole boyfriend walks up to me, helmet off, and looking like a college student who smokes and does little else up against the fence.

"It's gonna snow soon, you can't keep driving your Harley." He grunts.

"I'll do whatever I damn please." Grumbles his response, as always not wanting to agree with a plain fact, yet I grab his hand nevertheless as the doors open.

"What did _you_ do today?" I question as I fiddle with my coat, and he presses for the top floor with his stupidly boney knuckle.

"Meetings and negotiation." I fish out my phone from my pocket, and check one-handed for any texts.

"Isn't that what agents are for?" One, from Erza; speaking of agents. I loathe to open my phone right now though, I'll check after getting a pop from the fridge.

"Maybe for lazy asses like you." I punch him with the end of my cell, not like it does anything as he only looks over the rims of his glasses at me. I don't respond to his taunt, even though I know he expects something sly in response.

"Where are you getting drafted this year? You never said." I ask instead of retorting, because he hadn't and that's unusual. Of course it had been ritual for us for almost as long as we've been together, that'd we'd sit in bed in silence until I'd cave and guess one of the colours of his new team. Usually I'd get it by the fifth try, all the while he'd be playing his retro fighter video game.

"Strip Club."

"Which one? Because Lucy said something about a gig at a strip club next week." A lie, because I never read ahead. That's not why I state it, and I smirk as I watch him tense for a moment, muscles pulling at his leather biker jacket. The lift dings, and I step through first, letting him take a moment to recall that I don't like clubs of the sort.

"Hilarious." Is all he says, peeling off his jacket, as I hang my coat up, placing my duffle in the closet to sort through later.

Our apartment is large, not rittz like, neither of us had seen the appeal, however, we were two reasonably successful adults. Laxus had a pretty strong cash flow, and I was a considerably high-grade model. However, we had a decor not matching the commonalities of society. It wasn't profusely clean, nor was it swabbed in white clean walls or plain grey countertops of marble. Our floorboards weren't dark polished wood, they were light-yellow stained -because it reminded me of home.- Our walls were dark green, with a scattering of vertical brown wood paneling on the wall where we had connected our TV against the wall. We had an old leather couch fit for the early oddies, draped with a large leopard print throw on blanket, corners not neatly tucked and showing the fur on the other side. We had an old VHR set up next to a DVD player and large speakers of nine-hundred or more each, the most expensive thing we had. Two shelves on either side were stacked with moves and CD's alike.

The kitchen was modern, higher grade for when either of us felt like cooking a proper meal for once. I was a master with the frying pan and BBQ, while Laxus controlled the oven, crockpot, and large soup pot. Neither of us have had any sort of freeing time to cook together for awhile. I makes my nose twitch as I grab for the pop sitting on the counter, green, red or pink? I decide for the cream, I feel for something sweet today. The cap fizzles as I pop it open, I turn to ask if Laxus wants one.

For some reason I stop in seeing him. Tall and imposing over the open doorway, grasping at his sleeves with opposing arms, looking away from me with a rose nose, and pouting expression basking as indifference. His hair is a mess from the wind, blond spikes -not frosted however-, not unlike the strange '05 trend that most boy bands had followed. His shirt was his only formal purple one, a deep violet that opposed his hair perfectly, wearing his leather biker pants. The funny thing about that is he considered it formal, I would have critiqued him by now, had those leather pants not been the topic for many an adventurous night.

Yet his posture it bugs me, he rarely shows his nerves to me. Always so filled with bravado around me, as if he could carry both our weights without being crushed. Now he is wanting for something that I know not, and I wait for something to spill from. Instead he just shifts his foot and moves into the living room as if nothing had happened. _'What the hell?'_ One has to know Laxus to understand my confusion.

My first impulse is to ask him why, but my foot turns on its own towards the fridge and I end up getting out some onions and the bowl of ground meat I had prepared a day prior. I was planning on patties today, with cheese, onions and tomatoes. I put my slippers on first before going onto the patio though, chilled as it is I want to get the Barby going before my toes can freeze. It was old fashioned and still used charcoal as opposed to modern with gas. I get everything going before grabbing the pack I keep on the table. My nerves are fluttering strangely, and I know its because of what had just happened with my boyfriend.

It is as I take a drag, that I hear the screen door open, and I turn from my position leaning over the rail. Once more the rose has settled on his nose, dusting now on his cheeks as well. In an attempt to reign himself he sighs loudly, and I wait, snuffing out the cig even though I hadn't come close to finishing.

"We need to talk." He says eventually. Something chokes in my throat, and it takes only moments for dread to drop as a stone. Accompanying my feet. I stare directly into his eyes, swamped into blue-grey eyes looking for something that can't be seen through the eyes of man. Confirmation that my thoughts are karma.

"You're, not breaking up with me are you." Maybe its the wisp of the Tabaco lingering, but my voice comes steady and quiet instead of panicked as I feel. Where he had been trying best not to look at me, he now snaps to my gaze as if I had fired a bullet nearby.

"No. Never." My body sags against the railing, screaming from the pressure I shouldn't have jumped it into. "It's, different, complicated." Having let the relief swarm me for long enough I look to him again, arms crossed this time, reminding me tauntingly of the CN tower just an hour ago. He looks frustrated, scrapping a hand through his hair, and shifting to his left side pacing just a little. "God! You're just so fucking young, and I keep forgetting." Whatever that has to do with anything. The age gap between us hasn't come up for two years now, so to hear him bring it up again is slightly surreal.

"A four year gap isn't exactly young buddy. Either way, we're both adults, so just tell me." He pins me down with his stare, a familiar territory.

"You know Alzack Mulan?" It takes a moment, but I recall that he had played the Flames for awhile. Him and Laxus have known each other a surprisingly long time without the man getting fed up with my lover's jerklike behaviour. I nod. "He and Bisca are expecting." His wife, I remember, had been married for only six months so far, to be completely frank about the whole affair, no matter how much it wasn't my business, Bisca should have purposed a lot sooner and stopped tormenting all the other team members with their hesitant romance. Still I can hardly believe Bisca is pregnant! After such a short period, and I had been talking to her for awhile over text now without so much a notice of stomach ache!

"That's amazing! She can't be to far along though, she would've told me. We need to get her a baby shower gift!" A little outfit is the first thing that comes to mind, and as I go to ask the man I love I see this expression I haven't seen on him before. Tilted lips as if in the beginnings of a grin, and eyes so tensed a moment of melancholy encapsulated in blue. My words, whatever they may have been froze.

"Natsu." He says, calmly, looking straight into me. "Do you think, you'd be comfortable with a few brats of our own one day?" This time I'm certain a cherry resembles my face more accurately then any type of human. He was so blatant about it. Then again, what was I expecting? He was being considered in asking what I thought of the idea of pregnancy. Laxus knew -of course, that I am non-binary, though my sex is female, so it's not as if I'm infertile. If I'm candid about it, pregnancy has always made me uncomfortable as an aspect of myself. But a child of my own? I don't know how to think about it, or how to even start, sure it had passed once or twice as a stray thought, but never settled over a certain option.

I can't bare to tell him that direct though, at least not until I can sort myself out and think about it in detail. "Let me think about it, okay?" I look at him as a hand presses to my arm, but I'm to late to see him before I feel a kiss to my temple as he bends forward.

"Of course, no rush." Before he can fully leave my space, a smile grips me and I kiss his cheek in turn. A show of affection I have never really been open with, its the best thank you he's going to get from me right now.

* * *

It is only when I am in bed with my novel, and the braun beside me to I flick my eyes to my phone, in remembering the text I had received from Erza earlier. Putting the slim ribbon into place I take a drink of water as I open my phone. Someone dies on Laxus' game, I have no idea what he plays this time, but its more modern than the last one.

 **\- Sent - 6:55PM -**

 **From: Erza Fernandez**

 **Oi, do not forget the fashion show tomorrow. Formal, black-tie event, bring Dreyar for his own sake.**

 **-Seen - 11:05PM**

I cursed the recollection. My worst skill, a fashion show that didn't involve modeling. Instead this was merely an appearance, a paparazzi stunt to keep relevant and showful for possible future clients. My fingers tap loudly against the screen, as the loud weiring sound of our Ps4 fills the dark space.

 **To: Erza Fernandez**

 **ANOTHER GODDAMNED APPARENCE?! AR**

I don't get to finish typing before I am attacked by a wild Laxus. It sprawls me onto my side, awkwardly half way on the bed and hanging off with more core strength. Hardly able to move with his dead weight on top of me. Hefty pounds of muscle and stupid height advantage. He doesn't move as I glare my lazer eyes into him. It lasts a good ten minutes before I give into his stupid behaviour, breathing through my nose for lord granted patience.

My waist moves not due to my own restless shifting, his head still pressed into my neck, as he draws up with that stupid dexterity of his, both arms around me, yet fitting on my hips, so damned slim. He presses into my neck, a wet kiss, before sitting upright on his hunches. Finally moving, I sit uncomfortable with a knee pressed to close to the leg accompanying it hitting against my boyfriend's own. The other lazily left in a backwards straight position. My torso, so accustomed to this rests easy pressed so near. His forehead meets mine.

I laugh a little, he follows suit, I follow my hands gripping his neck, rubbing circles against his strained jaw.

"I love you Laxus." The lips tilted into my own shock me for a moment, but I'm not given a chance to respond.

"You're about to love me a lot more." I kiss him this time, baring his lips into mine from my grip.

"Hm?"

"Local team." He says, and as I kiss his mouth as lightly as I can, I have to wonder about what he's saying. Before an adrenaline rush shocks my entire body rigid.

"The Leafs?!"


End file.
